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Causa Scientiae

Write a story inspired by the chosen theme, in 75 words or less There should be a story, not just description The title is not part of the word count -- or the story One entry per person Prose or poetry

All stories Copyright 2010 by their respective authors, who grant the Chronicles Network the non-exclusive right to publish them here.

Contest ends at 11:59 pm GMT, June 23
Voting Ends at 11:59 pm GMT, June 28
(June 30, in the case of a tie-breaker poll)

You do not have to submit a story in order to vote -- in fact, we encourage all Chrons members to take part in choosing a winner

The Magnificent Prize:

The Dignified Congratulations/Grovelling Admiration of Your Peers
Also, the privilege of choosing next month's theme or genre

I'm a pineapple

“This is your last chance,” Ith-gar whispered to himself, climbing into the machine. Resigned to that fact, he motioned for the operator to throw the machine switch. There was a loud roar as it started up, and for Ith-gar, everything went black.
His was the first failure....or in the eyes of the military, success. But the rest of his race now saw him for what he was. A monster.

Lady of Autumn

The embers smouldered, and a stray breeze blew tiny sparks enthusiastically back into life. The ash inside the charred nest trembled, and some shimmered out into the night, but the rest remained to accept the flames now licking around the edges. It grew larger and brighter, almost incandescent, until it rose up and soared into the sky.

A single fiery feather drifted down, trailing glittering motes in its wake, as life began anew.

Well-Known Member

He hated the North, until he met her.
Wild, brash, beautiful; the flower that blossoms in winter.
A marriage of convenience called him home.
“It won’t always be like this,” he said. “Not when I am King.”

When he was King the North sensed weakness.
They raised a flag, and prepared for war.
He never saw her again.

He saw her daughter, though, laid under a blade.
He had sons to protect.

Goblin Princess

He works with meticulous care, crafting a tiny, perfect world inside a crystal eggshell.

Sprinkling stars of sugar across his miniature firmament, he choreographs their dances. A silver raindrop trail upon a window-pane becomes a thread of river. Scraps of memory give birth to knaves, tyrants, martyrs, lovers. They, too, dance to his tunes.

Exquisite now -- complete -- what will be its fate?

Abandoned with others like it: shining baubles of glass upon a dusty bookshelf.

The Ants are my friends..

Dark Tower
. Darkness falls of a sudden. Run, begin the building of the tower !

Scramble ! Climb up and up on the backs of your kin, to form a new summit, with only death below. Freeze as others supersede you and the tower grows. Die in position, a vital link in the chain of survival.

Run now, the last of you, run ! Launch from the tower and drift, and seek the golden food of light.

Well-Known Member

All his life he had been nobody special. He had a good name but without money; no power. Then she arrived, changing him, changing everything. He killed for her, would have died for her; all for this moment.

The papers were signed, his name changed. She had made it all possible.

Now royal blood splashing, gore everywhere, the quill drifting slowly to the ground.

1 Candlepower Brain

Scaled hands relaxed, easing. Weight bore the limp-necked body down into the darkess – the scaled hands made sure it grounded gently, the wobbling head striking no stone. Another's scaled hand thumped onto his shoulder from behind, raising a cloud of dried ochre, squeezing.
“Now you're a man, my son.”
He stared up at the unblinking stars. He supposed his father was right; but he did not feel like a man.

I lie. A lot. Honest!

Staring at his reflection in the pond – ashen skin hanging loose from his emaciated body, his hair all but withered away – he wonders, briefly, if he’d made a mistake.

Then he opens his fist, and gazes at the glorious amber shine. The moonlight softly brushes its surface; curved perfection, mesmerizing in its splendor. It whispers to him. He caresses it, gently, and smiles.

Well-Known Member

How near he came to me this time. How close he passed me by. I have waited so long for his touch, but he does not know of it. A touch: that is all I need to free me. And yet he does not bend down and place one kiss... one kiss upon my lips to release me from the spell and change stone back to flesh.

pixie druid

Complaints from neighbours, letters from the council, my garden is an eyesore, more each day come in.
I open the door and spot the shells gran gave me " leave them out for the little people, they'll fix it, gift for gift" she said.
I laid them on the doorstep and went to bed. This morning I looked out the window to a cascade of colour, my garden completely transformed.